


Christmas spirit

by cat_es_val



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27929206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_es_val/pseuds/cat_es_val
Summary: Jack and Ianto spend Christmas Eve together in The Hub. Jack tells Ianto about traditions on his home planet, and they exchange gifts.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Christmas spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to itneveroccurredtomeatall for beta reading this! My brain was a bit confused with verb tenses while writing this and it was a bit of a mess. Canon character deaths are addressed in the fic (up to CoE).

Christmas music fills the air, and last-minute shoppers fill the streets. But down in The Hub, you would be none the wiser. Only Jack and Ianto are there that day. Jack had given Gwen the day off so she could spend it with Rhys and their families. 

Ianto had liked Christmas as a kid. Typically, they would have a pleasant dinner, and his father would drink himself to sleep after, remaining unconscious until lunch the next day, giving them time to enjoy their gifts during the morning. As a teen, he would simply run to a friend’s house after dinner and spend Christmas day anywhere but his home. After joining Torchwood, he had stopped celebrating Christmas with his family. Always things to take care of, and a good excuse to avoid his drunk father. He’d spent one Christmas with Lisa, before losing her. 

Ianto had never wondered what Jack thought of Christmas. He knows Jack has lived through almost three centuries and wonders if he ever sat at a table for Christmas dinner and exchanged gifts with someone the next morning. 

He sees Jack looking somewhat sad, but he doesn’t know if it’s related to the holidays or something else. He goes on about his day. 

Jack disappears at lunchtime, and Ianto doesn’t notice when he comes back, but it’s close to 4 pm when he sees him again. 

“Coffee, sir?” Ianto asks, looking up from the paperwork he was organizing. 

“Yes, thank you, Ianto,” Jack replies with a smile before heading towards his office. “Any plans for Christmas Eve?” he asks as Ianto hands him his coffee a few minutes later.

“Not really,” Ianto says, leaning against Jack’s desk, looking at him. “I go see my family on Christmas day, to exchange gifts. And you?”

“Rift babysitting duty,” Jack says with a wary smile. 

“Have you ever celebrated Christmas?” Ianto asks. “Did you celebrate it at home?” 

Jack gives him a disconcerted look at that question. 

“No. We didn’t celebrate Christmas at home,” he says, thoughtfully. “We did have a similar holiday, but only in the traditions,” he adds, and smiles sadly. 

“And here?” Ianto asks, placing his hand on top of Jack’s shoulder. 

“Not many times,” Jack replies with a sigh. “Torchwood, the war, the traveling circus... Oh! I did spend two Christmases with Estelle. And I got presents from Tosh and Owen when they were here,” he says with a sad smile.

“Sorry for asking,” Ianto says, a pained expression on his face. 

“Ey! No, it’s okay,” Jack says. “I asked first. And I take it this is not a special holiday for you either.”

“Not really.” Ianto smiles sadly. “This tie and cufflinks were a gift from Lisa,” he adds. “We tried to bake a turkey. I don’t know why, it was only the two of us,” Ianto laughs. “It was a disaster. We ended up ordering pizza,” he trails off and stares at Jack, who is smiling fondly. 

Jack opens a drawer and takes out a beautiful varnished wooden box. “This ink pen was a gift from Estelle,” Jack tells him, opening the box and handing it to him. 

Ianto takes it, looking at the pen with appreciation and noticing it has Jack’s and Estelle’s initials engraved on it. 

“We would write letters to each other when I was away, so for our first Christmas together she got me this,” he adds, looking sad again. 

“It’s beautiful,” Ianto says, squeezing Jack’s shoulder and handing him the box back. 

After Jack puts the box away, Ianto kisses his forehead. “What about the holidays you celebrated at home?” Ianto asks. 

“Oh, the major one, where we exchanged gifts, was a celebration in honor of the first settlers on our planet,” Jack answers. “We would spend the whole week writing cards and wrapping presents. Everyone in the village would cook, we would put a big table out, and we would exchange food and other gifts while the adults taught us about how the planet had been terraformed so we could live there. But the holiday I loved the most was the low-tide. My home planet has three moons. Once a year they would align, and the gravitational pull would change, producing a very low tide. That allowed us to harvest algae that grew in a submarine tunnel. It wasn’t far from the shore, but it would go down for several meters, so when it was covered by water it would be too dangerous. The water in the tunnels would be pumped out, and there, in the darkness, grew a weird algae, the most delicious thing. We would eat some fresh, but we also would spend the afternoon pickling some, so we could have it during the year. There was a ceremony to thank the sky and ask for a plentiful harvest the next year.” 

Ianto looks at Jack with a thoughtful expression, and Jack stands up to kiss him. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Ianto says, and Jack gives him a warm smile. 

“So, if you don’t have plans for tonight, and the rift behaves, would you like to have Christmas dinner with me?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, I would like that,” Ianto replies and kisses Jack again. “Should I order Chinese?” Ianto asks, looking at the time on his wristwatch. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Jack smiles.

Ianto orders their food and sets the table for their dinner. He gets some Christmas decorations he had put in the tourist’s office and uses them to decorate their dining space. 

When Jack disappears for a few minutes, Ianto takes that time to wrap his present. 

He’d spent a lot of time thinking about it. Though he hasn’t cared much about holidays since he started working for Torchwood, he’d wanted to give something to Jack. Mostly because they don’t typically do gifts, and because Jack doesn’t have a birthday. 

The bell of the tourists’ office rings and Ianto goes to get their food. When he comes back to the dining area, Jack is there. 

“Like a dog when they hear someone eating,” Ianto teases, and Jack pouts.

“You decorated,” Jack points out as he helps Ianto put the food on plates. 

“So we have a proper Christmas dinner,” Ianto replies. “Sadly, no tree.”

“We can put one up next year,” Jack says.

“Yeah,” Ianto smiles softly at the suggestion that they will be together next Christmas. 

“Decorating the tree was my favorite part of Christmas when I was a boy,” Ianto says, tucking a napkin into the collar of his shirt to protect his clothes from staining. 

Jack lifts an eyebrow questioningly as he shovels food into his mouth, inviting him to elaborate. 

“We had this box of decorations my parents had collected over the years. My sister and I would go through it and choose which decorations we would use. I would classify them by color and size, and hand them to her and my mam for them to hang. I liked that,” Ianto says, and pauses to take a bite. “Then, we would make an angel out of paper and cardboard, to put on the top”.

“We would also make some decorations for our First Settlers celebration,” Jack says with a smile. “It was one of my favorite activities. We would collect stones, seashells, and other trinkets. I just loved spending time on the shore. Any excuse was welcome”.

“It sounds nice,” Ianto says, returning Jack’s sad smile.

They finish their meal in silence, and Jack goes to his office to fetch a bottle of whisky. Ianto retrieves his gift for Jack, and also some gifts Gwen had left for them. 

Jack returns and pours them each a glass of whisky. They clink their glasses saying “merry Christmas” and take a sip of the drink. 

“Gwen left this for you,” he says, handing Jack a box wrapped in a paper with a blue background and silver snowflakes, tied with a blue and silver ribbon. 

Ianto puts in front of him another box wrapped in paper with a red background and golden bells and wrapped with a golden ribbon. There was another gift. A round tin of cookies that Gwen and Rhys had baked. He puts it in the middle, between Jack and himself. He takes one cookie and puts it in a napkin next to his glass of whisky. 

“This is for you,” Jack says, handing Ianto a wooden box tied with a red ribbon. 

“Thank you,” Ianto says as he accepts the gift. “And this is for you,” he adds, handing Jack his gift. It’s wrapped in paper with a white background and golden stars and tied with a matching ribbon.

“Thank you, Ianto.” Jack smiles and starts to unwrap Gwen’s gift as he eats one of the cookies. 

They show each other what Gwen had gotten them. She’d given Jack a pair of white braces with golden details and a silver pen with his name engraved on it. Ianto had received a leather-bound notebook, and an engraved pen, too.

“Go first,” Jack tells Ianto. “Open my gift.” He looks somewhat anxious. 

Ianto nods in agreement and unties the ribbon holding the box shut. Inside, there is a weird device that looks like coral but is made of some sort of metal. Ianto looks at Jack with a puzzled expression on his face. 

“This is a device from my home planet,” Jack explains. “It came through the rift a while ago. I didn’t log it in the archives” he says with an apologetic look. “It stores pictures. But the pictures are extracted from memories. You press this button,“ Jack says pointing, “and it projects the stored images. Like a sort of hologram.”

Ianto hands the device to Jack, who presses the button, and the image of a beach with white sand and a green sea appears. 

“These are the images that were stored in the device when it came through,” Jack explains, as different images are displayed. Most of them are landscapes, but there are a few pictures of people in a market.

“Jack, this is beautiful,” Ianto says, eyes watery. “Don’t you want to keep this?”

“I want you to have it,” Jack replies. “It still has a lot of memory space available. You load memories like this,” he adds before pressing another button while closing his eyes and putting the device close to his forehead. 

After a minute or so Jack puts the device on the table again and it projects a picture of Jack and Ianto dancing at Gwen’s wedding. “You don’t have to close your eyes, but it can help to focus, and it takes less time for the picture to be produced.”

Ianto stands from his chair and moves closer to Jack. He cups the other man’s face with his hand and kisses him. “Thank you,” he says, looking at Jack in a way he hopes will express how much he appreciates the gift. 

Jack smiles warmly, and Ianto returns to his chair. 

“Can I open my present now?” Jack asks.

“Please,” Ianto replies, smiling. 

Jack messily tears the wrapping paper and opens the cardboard box to reveal a small paper envelope and another box. Only this one is made of metal. Inside the metal box, there is a pair of RAF wing cufflinks from 1940. 

Jack had lost them after dying in a trench during the war. He had come back to life in just his undershirt and pants. 

He shoots an incredulous look at Ianto. “How…?”

“I saw you wearing them in an old picture,” Ianto explains. “And I haven’t seen you wear them. I wasn’t sure you lost them, but I risked it,” he adds, a self-conscious look on his face. 

“Thank you,” Jack says and takes Ianto’s hand to plant a kiss on his knuckles. He then takes the small paper envelope and tears one end open, tilting it to let what is inside slide out of it. “Is this…?”

“A key to my apartment,” Ianto confirms, nodding, but not daring to look at Jack’s face. 

Jack stands from his chair and gets closer to Ianto, putting a hand under the other man’s chin and lifting his head to kiss him.

“Thank you,” Jack says, and Ianto stands from his chair so they can embrace and kiss. 

They finish their drinks, clean the plates they had used to eat, and lie down in Jack’s bed. 

“Thank you, Jack,” Ianto says, head laying on Jack’s chest.

“Thank you, Ianto,” Jack says in return, hugging the younger man. “Next year we will put out a tree. And prepare a proper dinner,” he adds.

“I don’t care if it’s just takeout and tacky paper decorations again,” Ianto says smiling. “As long as we spend the day together.”

“Agreed,” Jack says, and Ianto drifts to sleep as Jack rubs his back. 

The following Christmas, Jack is not on Earth. Ianto had given his life to save the children and the pain of his loss is too much to celebrate any holiday, terrestrial or otherwise. He spends the day he knows to be Christmas on Earth drinking and projecting pictures from the memory device he had gifted his lover. Ianto had added several images, most of them of the two of them together, and he will hold on to them to keep his promise. He will not forget Ianto Jones. Not in a thousand, nor in a million years.

**Author's Note:**

> Jack’s cufflinks: https://www.sellingantiques.co.uk/113515/a-pair-of-silver-raf-wings-cufflinks/#


End file.
